


Smudge

by michals



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Flirting, M/M, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michals/pseuds/michals
Summary: Itty bitty drabble for my scenaaario after talking about Will being the one to get dirty for a change. Ethan's a fan.





	Smudge

Will knows Ethan’s staring at him, has been for almost two minutes now. He finally drags his eyes away from the laptop in front of him, propped up on the tiny hotel room table. 

 

He doesn’t have to say anything, just raises his eyebrows questioningly. A slow smile creeps across Ethan’s face. 

 

“It’s not a bad look on you,” he says, loose and relaxed after all the dust has settled - in this case literally. “Usually it’s the other way around.”

 

True. Will had collapsed in the stiff armchair still dressed from the field, the analyst part of his brain too focused on the mission reports to bother changing yet. It’s nothing more than a black t-shirt, cargo pants, and boots - and a thick layer of dirt. He’d had to roll out of a moving Humvee as it barrelled toward a helicopter that resulted in quite the explosion; so that, plus the trench of mud he’d had to hike through, and the gunpowder residue on his hands and arms means he’s leaving footprints across the carpet and smudges on the computer keys. 

 

Ethan’s wearing a suit. It’s a little disheveled by now, some soot marks on his white shirt (you don’t stand in the radius of an exploding helicopter without getting something on you), his tie loosened around his neck, but otherwise looking miles more put together than Will. It’s light silver, Will had picked it out for him. Somehow it makes his eyes darker and greener; or maybe it’s the dim lamplight of the hotel room. 

 

Will smirks at him. “Think you wear it better,” he turns back to the computer but watches Ethan from the corner of his eye, “I liked that Hawaiian thing.” He thinks Ethan looks good in anything, he’s in deep. 

 

Ethan’s smile just gets wider. “No, I like seeing the agent, the analyst gets boring sometimes.”

 

Will tries to hold back a grin. He had no intention of ever going back to the field after Croatia, but then Ethan happened. “Both of those are your fault.”

 

Ethan laughs, leans back in the matching ugly floral armchair across from him, “Hey, the humvee was your idea.” 

 

“One of my better ones.” Ethan laughs again and Will has to chuckle with him. 

 

The report in front of him is losing, badly, in the fight for Will’s attention. Ethan unclasps his watch, drops it on the table carelessly, undoes the buttons at his wrists. He closes his eyes and tips his head back against the chair, hands moving absentmindedly to tug at the tie still slung around his neck. Will very emphatically thinks, ‘ _ that’s my job _ ’ and shuts the laptop with a snap.

 

Ethan’s eyes drift open to watch Will round the table, push aside his hands and tug on the tie. Ethan lets himself be pulled up, pliant and willing, that relaxed half smile sliding back across his mouth. A little thrill goes up through Will’s nerves at the fact that this is something only he gets to see: Ethan lax and loose limbed, passive. 

 

Will pulls at the tie and it slips out from Ethan’s collar with a soft sound and he drops it to the floor. Ethan’s hands go around his hips, nudging up his shirt so he can touch bare skin. Will has to smirk at the thought that comes to mind but Ethan doesn’t have enough time to question it before Will’s pushing his hands into his hair and pulling their mouths together. 

 

Will’s sure he tastes like ash, sure his skin feels gritty and clammy with sweat, but Ethan’s kissing back like he can’t get enough, hands raking up his shirt and dragging along his back. Will keeps telling him to stop cutting his hair, he thinks it looks better long (as if he could dislike any way Ethan looks) but it’s still plenty long enough to tug at, guarantees a hitch in Ethan’s breath. The undone top button leaves more skin for Will to touch, more of his neck for him to slide his palms down. He swipes his thumbs across his cheekbones, down his jawline while he sucks on his bottom lip.

 

He presses his thumb against his chin and pulls away. Ethan licks his lips and raises his eyebrows at him. There’s smudges of dirt across his cheeks, a line of it from the corner of his left eye to the corner of his lip. Black marks on his neck in the shape of Will’s fingers. Shirt crumpled and hair a mess he looks undone. Will smirks, pretty damn happy with his work. 

 

“Better?” Ethan asks, lips slick as Will presses close again.

 

Will hums, “Not a bad look on you.” He kisses at Ethan’s smile. 

 

Ethan finally gets his shirt rucked up under his arms and they have to part for him to yank it up over his head and then forcefully flung off into a far corner of the room. Ethan’s hands are endlessly running across his chest, shoulders, dipping under his belt. Will feels more wound up with every touch, every little noise Ethan lets slip; he thinks he might end up ripping the suit off of him, so it takes a bit of control for him to wrap his hand in the front of his shirt and push away just enough to say, as cocky as he can manage, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

 

Ethan laughs as Will drags him along by his shirt, no choice in the matter really, but he still says, “I guess I’ll join you.” 

 


End file.
